The Motherfucker Rag

I lifted myself up and nonchalantly scooted my miniskirt down as much as possible and then took the proffered champagne from my son, trying to act as if I hadn't noticed my son staring at my cunt. Just the thought of it made me a little wetter.

"Well, here's to you, Mom," John said, raising his glass up. "If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be here right now." He smiled at me in such a brazen, confident way, I felt like I ought to be either sliding the hell away from him as fast as possible or tearing my clothes off...as fast as possible.

We both took a sip of the champagne, its bubbles tickling my nose. It was very good, but I was amused to see John make a face. "Not to your taste, huh?"

John sipped the rest of his drink and shook his head, "Beer's better – um, not that I drink., Mom."

I laughed and finished off my drink. John moved to refill my glass and as he did, I teasingly said, "Trying to get your old mother drunk?"

My son smiled and said, "Well, whatever it takes to not be sleeping on the couch, Mom."

"You're a naughty boy, John." I looked around the limo and at the note from the shock jocks, lying on the opposite seat and then again at my son, catching him staring down at my tits and legs and after shaking my head and taking another long sip of champagne, continued, "This whole thing from the beginning has been awfully naughty."

John grinned evilly and replied, "Well, Mom, naughty can be nice, right? It's not like we've done anything really wrong."

I let out a harsh laugh and said, "French kissing my own son – letting him feel me up, letting him f-finger me, isn't wrong?" I slugged back the rest of my champagne...feeling very warm all of a sudden.

John was frowning and in a suddenly uncertain tone said, "So do you regret doing it, Mom?"

I know I should have told him that, yes, that it was wrong – that being dressed like this and feeling sexually aroused by my own son was wrong and that we should turn this limo around, check out of the hotel and go home and back to my safe, middle class life. But I didn't. Maybe it was the champagne which was already giving me a buzz, maybe it was just me, not wanting the naughty feelings to end, I'm not sure, but what I did was scoot a little closer to my son, my breasts brushing his arm and resting my free hand on his blue jean clad thigh, I said, "Not one bit. I'm having fun, sweetie!"

I rose up, my left breast almost popping free from my bustier as it dragged along my son's upper arm and pecked a kiss on his cheek. John shivered a bit and then grinned the same grin he always got whenever he'd gotten away with something as a boy and said, "But, I'm still on the couch, right."

I winked at him and replied, "You betcha," I giggled as he rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, we arrived at the concert. Linda opened the door for us and after making sure we had our passes, told us, "I'll be here whenever you wish to leave."

After walking past a line of photographers and feeling like a celebrity for a moment as cameras flashed, I had my ego deflated a little as I heard one of the photographers say, "Who was that?" only to get a reply from another, "Nobody."

We were guided to our seats, spacious things unlike anything I had experienced at a concert before. There was an open bar and beautiful young women in short shorts and tight tank tops waiting on the VIPs that included at least two Chicago area pro-baseball players, a pro-hockey player, a local anchorwoman and amazingly, us! We both felt a little out of place, but wound up chatting with several of the others in the VIP seats and I even gave an autograph to the hockey player who'd apparently heard us on the radio.

Then the lights went down and suddenly it sounded like World War Three had started as the whole place went up in explosions and fireworks and flames and my entire body seemed to be vibrating as John's favorite band began playing...something. It was loud and apparently good considering the audience's reaction. We were all on our feet and as time went by, I began to catch the lyrics which seemed mostly about sex and drugs and sex and fast cars and last but not least, sex. People were moving in time to the music's beat, shaking their heads violent and many including my son were dancing to it.

The first song led into another, this one louder and faster than the first and I was laughing as John tried to get me to dance to it, bouncing up and down like we'd gone insane. John's eyes were locked onto my body as I tried to dance to it, not laughing a bit, but staring at me lustfully and I realized that my partly bare breasts were no doubt quite a sight, jiggling and jumping up and down and it was a miracle they hadn't bounced right out of the bustier.

My head swam from the noise and music and from the evergrowing presence of smoke in the air – not just from the special effects, but with an aroma I'd not really experienced in several years. When I screamed to John that I suspected someone was smoking pot, he just grinned and pretended to take in a great lungful before continuing to dance.

The third song was even more thunderous and exhausted from the last one, I just stood there while my son did the headbanger thing wondering how long his brain could stay intact doing that. As the raucous noise washed over me, I suddenly looked down and had to laugh – as the waves of sound washed over us, my tits were literally jiggling on their own with no movement from me.

I tugged on John's arm and screamed into his ear, "Just how loud is this music going to get – I'm afraid I'm going to vibrate right out of my top!"

John stopped shaking to the music and watched my breasts move all on their own to the music and then shrugged and screamed back (I think), "So what – check it out, Mom – a lot of women are already topless!"

My son pointed towards the main crowd away from us and I gave them a good long look for the first time as my mouth sagged open. John was absolutely correct. Scattered through the crowd were several woman, breasts out and bouncing as they danced.

The fourth song was a change of pace – a bluesy number, slow and it seemed to me, very sexually charged. The head banging stopped and everyone began swaying in time to the music while the singer (who sounded as if he had his balls caught in a meatgrinder began to screech sexually suggestive lyrics which periodically seemed to be urging some woman to "lick me."

John slipped his arm around my shoulder and began swaying, taking me back and forth with him as he sang along, somehow always managing to be grinning down at me when the "lick me" refrain came around. I shivered each time he said it, feeling the moistness of my pussy increasing and my nipples hard and long, trying to break free of the bustier. By the time the song ended, I was so aroused, I was almost ready to rip John's clothes off and fuck him right in front of the thousands of folks in the arena. My head spun – maybe from the drinks, maybe from the contact high I was getting from the marijuana cloud floating about, or maybe from the sexual desire I was feeling for my son.

As the song ended, I skittered out of my son's embrace and started to walk away and find a women's room to calm down, but before I could do anything, I heard the voice of Dirty Davy echoing through the place.

"ALL RIGHT CHICAGO! IS THIS FUCKING PLACE ROCKING OR WHAT?" He proceeded to welcome the band to Chicago and then to thank the concert sponsors. He began introducing various special VIPs and I suddenly wished I was somewhere else as he said, "AND LAST AND CERTAINLY NOT LEAST, THE CHIMP AND I WANT TO WELCOME WFUK's WINNERS OF THE 'WOULD YOU MAKE OUT WITH MOM FOR TICKETS' WINNERS – JOHN AND HIS MOM CAROL, GIVE THEM A FUCKING BIG HAND!"

A spotlight touched down on us as the arena erupted in loud cheering that seemed to go on and on. I stepped back to my son, my left arm going around his waist as we waved to the crowd, my face red as could be. As the cheers just kept coming, the Chimp suddenly appeared on stage, another microphone in his hand and he started shouting, "WE WANT A KISS! WE WANT A KISS! WE WANT A KISS!"

The crowd went nuts and started taking up the chant. I suddenly felt very dizzy and warm as we stood in the middle of that spotlight, our ears echoing with the screams of maybe thirty thousand people demanding that my son and I kiss, urged on by both Dirty Davy and the Chimp and then the band, all demanding, "WE WANT A KISS!"

My son turned to me, a silly grin on his face and over the din, he hollered, "So, what are we going to do, Mom?"

My heart was pounding, I could feel my blood pulsing in my brain and between my legs and I felt like I might just swoon and could barely believe my own voice when I replied, "I guess we're going to kiss, idiot!"

My son and I came together in a passionate embrace, our arms wrapping around each other, pulling our bodies tightly together and as our lips met, I admitted to myself that I'd truly been aching for this all this past week! The crowd went nuts as we kissed and although I didn't notice at the time, cameras were on us, transmitting our kiss to huge monitors on stage, giving everyone a good look at our mouths hungrily working as our tongues greeted each other like long lost lovers.

We gave the kiss all we had, both of us grunting and sighing with contentment as our tongues danced and curled around each other. God, I liked doing this with my son. The crowd roared its approval as my son brazenly slid his hands down my back and cupped my ass cheeks through the thin material of my miniskirt while the crowd chanted, "DON'T STOP! DON'T STOP!"

A wicked and insane impulse had me respond to my son's indecent embrace by lifting my left leg up and curling it around his thigh, exposing the top seam of my stockings and a large amount of thigh while rubbing my wet panty clad mound against John's thigh, hoping he'd feel the heat he was generating inside his mother! John pulled me tighter against him, making sure I felt his erection pressing into my stomach. I knew we were acting completely indecent, but suddenly I didn't give a damn.

The crowd loved it and cheered us on minute after lewd minute until finally we broke the kiss, gasping, our mouths wet with each other's saliva. We again waved to the crowd, both of us shaking with nervous energy. I looked up at my son and saw he only had eyes for me as he mouthed, "I love you, Mom!"

He hugged me tight against him, me shouting into his ear, "I love you, too, son!"

The band's lead singer, a scary looking man with long, greasy hair and a muscle shirt that showed off disturbing looking tattoos, took the microphone again and in his English or maybe Australian accent, growled, "ALL RIGHT! THAT'S WHAT WE FUCKING CAME TO CHICAGO FOR! LET'S GIVE ANOTHER BIG FUCKING HAND TO CAROL AND JOHN, YOU WANKERS!"

The arena's audience screamed in response and the band began to softly (for them), play another bluesy number. The lead singer leaned into the microphone and looked right down at us, flashing us a big, toothy grin and said, "ALL RIGHT, CHICAGO – THIS NEXT SONG IS OFF OUR LAST FUCKING ALBUM AND AINT ONE YOU'D BE HEARING ON PUSSY AMERICAN RADIO. WE'RE GONNA DEDICATE IT TO JOHN AND HIS HOT FUCKING MOTHER, CAROL – 'THE MOTHERFUCKER RAG'!"

The band brought it up a notch and John evidently anticipating the song, took me in his arms and we began to move to the music and then the lead singer began singing in a slow, booze-laden voice and I couldn't believe the words I was hearing...and even more, that my son was singing along too.

The MotherFucker Rag

I see her walking 'round me,

Shaking that sexy body with all she's got

My naughty mind begins to dream naughty forbidden thoughts

Who would've ever imagined, who would've ever dreamed

My mother would be so fucking hot, she'd make me wanna CREAM!

MOTHERFUCKER!

That's all I want to be!

MOTHERFUCKER!

Please Momma, won't you please come satisfy me!

MOTHERFUCKER!

Oh Mommy, please let me be your one and only

MOTHERFUCKER!

Mom gives me that naughty knowing smile,

That makes certain parts of my body grow!

I dream of those long legs parting

Her juicy sweet treasures to show!

So I can climb back in and with a grin

Lose myself in incestuous sin!

MOTHERFUCKER!

That's all I want to be!

MOTHERFUCKER!

Please Momma, won't you please come satisfy me!

MOTHERFUCKER!

Oh Mommy, please let me be your one and only

MOTHERFUCKER!

Mom slowly walks up to me, her ass it sweetly shakes

Making me sweat and swell, while my entire body quakes

I can't believe it when she kisses me, slipping me a little tongue

And then Mom whispers to me, baby, please oh please,

Make your mommy cum!

MOTHERFUCKER!

That's all I want to be!

MOTHERFUCKER!

Please Momma, won't you please come satisfy me!

MOTHERFUCKER!

Oh Mommy, please let me be your one and only

MOTHERFUCKER!

My head was whirling so much that if I hadn't been in my son's arms, I think I might have fainted and collapsed, I was that close to swooning. The music seemed to invade my body even as the words seemed to echo the lust etched on my son's face. I felt like I was on fire and I was consumed by the sudden, overwhelming desire for John, and even if he'd let me go, I would have clung all the fiercely to him, feeling his strong arms around me and the heat and sweat for all the physical activity and as our bodies moved together with the rhythm of the obscene song, I felt my inhibitions melting away in the incestuous lust of the moment.

I began to respond to my son physically, rubbing against him as we danced, trapping his thigh between my legs and practically humping him while our faces grew closer and closer till I could feel John's hot breath against my face, my neck and my breasts. My hands rubbed and caressed his chest, his back and his butt while his hands again cupped my ass cheeks, sliding under my skirt – his fingers digging into the meat of my ass while he dry-humped his denim covered cock against me.

Remotely, I sensed the crowd roaring its approval as the band began to repeat the refrain again and again, each time with more intensity, the cheers growing louder as my son and I kissed again, still moving to the nasty music until finally, it ended in a crescendo of screaming, discordant guitars and insane drums. "NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT, YOU FUCKERS!" growled the lead singer while John and I still were locked in our embrace, looking at each other as if seeing each other for the first time.

"Get me out of here, son," I moaned, pressing my head against his sweaty chest, feeling his heart pounding madly. "Take me back to the hotel...now!" I looked up into my son's eyes, confident he could read my feelings from the expression on my face and he just nodded and with his arm wrapped possessively around my waist, we fled the arena.

Linda, our Limo driver was right on the ball, spotting us exiting and had the limo door open for us as we approached, me still clinging to my son as if my life depended on it. "Is everything all right?" she asked. John nodded and I said, "Yes, thank you," shocked at the ragged tenor to my voice, full of need and desire. We climbed in and Linda closed the door and hurried around to her seat.

When she was on board and I could see her eyes on us in her rear view mirror, I said, "Take us to the hotel, please, Linda,"

"Of course, ma'am," she replied, starting up the limo and moving us swiftly away from the arena.

"Linda?"

"Yes, ma'am," she answered.

"Please get us there quickly and Linda, some privacy if you please." I saw her eyes widen a little in comprehension and she nodded and I paid her no more mind as even before the privacy screen slid all the way up, I was climbing into my son's lap and hungrily mashed my lips against his and forced my tongue into his mouth.

I savagely pursued his tongue with mine even as I worked my mound against the bulge in his crotch, savoring the delicious wickedness of feeling his denim covered cock rubbing against my sodden mound, pushing the soaked silk material of my g-string between my sensitive labia.

John's hands again were cupping my ass cheeks. I reached down and took one of his hands and brought it up to cup my breast, urging him to squeeze my fleshy, meaty tit as we kissed. I groaned into my son's mouth as he deftly used his thumb to push down my bustier just enough to free my swollen nub of a nipple and then using the pad of his thumb to rub and tease it.

Each minute locked in this passionate embrace was like a gift from heaven, yet I ached for it to come to an end and was so thankful when we came to a stop and over the intercom heard Linda say softly, "We're here."

By the time she had our door open, my son and I had pulled ourselves together someone. My nipple was covered again and although I'm sure the limo reeked of my juices, you could barely see the wet spots on the crotch of John's blue jeans. Linda squeezed my hand and gave me a knowing smile as she helped me out of the limousine.

I slipped her one of our radio prize hundred dollar bills and thanked her for getting us here so quickly.

The young woman smiled at us and said, "Thank you." She winked at us as I took John's hand and literally dragged him towards the huge revolving door and called after us, "I hope you two have a wonderful night!"

John and I hurried through the lobby, ignoring the stares that accompanied us. In the elevator, I again forced myself against my son, kissing him passionately as the lift took us up to our suite, my hands roaming hungrily over his body, pulling his shirt out of his jeans and caressing his chest and rubbing my palm against the rock hard bulge in his pants. After much frustrated fumbling with the key card, we pushed into the room, pausing only to hang the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door.

We'd scarcely closed the door when John literally slammed me against the door, pinning me there with his body as he kissed me, his hands scooping my breasts out of the bustier's cups, fingers quickly finding and pinching and pulling on my swollen nipples. My hands were busy too as I fumbled at his jeans, hands shaking as I finally got the button undone and then anxiously tugging down the zipper. I had forgotten how hot things can get in a man's crotch as my fingers slipped in, expecting to work my way into the folds of his shorts, but finding instead hot skin and crinkly hair and a thick tube of pulsating flesh that I managed to get free, gasping into my son's mouth at just how big he really was.

As my hand tried to encircle the girth of his cock, John, his tongue busily dueling mine, slid a hand from my breast to under my skirt and then with a growl, he ripped my thong from my body and then his hand was palming my mound, fingers tracing paths through my thick and trimmed mat of pussy fur before finding my splayed labia and pressing into my liquid, syrupy heat!

An intense jolt of extreme pleasure tore through my, emanating outwards from my cunt as my son touched me, seeming to know my every secret spot. I clamped my thighs around his hand, not wanting to let him go...at least not until I found something better. Our kiss continued as we stroked and touched each other. Finally, John pulled his hand free and tugged on my miniskirt, letting it pool at my feet. I let go of his cock and wrapping my arms around his neck, literally lifted myself up, trying to wrap my shapely legs around his waist, trapping his long cock against my wet muff.

"Am I still on the couch, Mom?" John gasped, breaking the kiss – my mouth pursuing his, my tongue still seeking the sweet warmth of his mouth.

"Hell yes, you're on the couch, son – carry me over there and fuck me on that fucking couch, John!" I moaned before forcing my tongue into his mouth again. As we kissed, John began to move us that way, shuffling awkwardly at first as his jeans fell and threatened to trip him up. Each stumbling movement brought a muffled groan from me as his erect dick rubbed against my aroused pussy lips. Finally, John kicked free of his shoes and jeans and hurried the rest of the way across the room and then he gently deposited me on the couch.